


Tumblr Drabbles: SPN Edition

by CaedHarlowe



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:19:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4766414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaedHarlowe/pseuds/CaedHarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles from my tumblr. Mostly Destiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cheeseburger Donuts

Castiel does not have a birthday.

-

Jimmy Novak had one, of course, but it feels rude to take that from the man when he had already given so much. Truthfully, he feels no loss for the lack. Birthdays are a human construct, a product of their fleeting lives. Celebrations for the slow creep of their inevitable demise. Dean tells him to cut the doom and gloom bullshit, and Sam announces that they will pick a day for him.

Months pass, and Cas is sure the Winchesters have forgotten their promise. There are more important issues to focus on. Then one day, Dean prays to him for help. A creature they cannot identify, even with Bobby Singer and his extensive library.

Castiel appears in the kitchen, prepared to receive the relevant information. He hears an explosive noise, and blinks as Dean blows a small paper trumpet at him. Sam rolls his eyes, but he still grins. The banner behind them has come loose and drapes down the windowsill. A Crispy Creme box lays on the kitchen table, next to a case of the expensive beers Cas has found he is fond of.

Dean's soul writhes like an excited puppy. He steps into Cas's space and snaps something around Cas's head. Cas reaches up and feels a cardboard cone, held on with thin elastic.

“What is this?” Dean only grins and hurries out of the room, leaving Sam to explain.

“It’s a birthday party. We chose today because - well - Dean didn’t want it, but it’s the anniversary of you rescuing him from hell. Seemed appropriate.” Castiel doesn’t know what to say. Bobby hands him a beer, which he absently cracks open and sips, wondering where Dean went off to. Was he still unhappy about the chosen date?

Dean answers his question a minute later, returning with an armful of newspaper-wrapped items. “They’re presents.”

“I see.” He does not see.

“They’re for you. Open them.” Cas takes his time with the first present. He slides his finger under each piece of tape, wincing whenever the paper rips. Dean's fingers twitch, aborted, impatient movements. He moves on to the others, enthusiasm growing with each gift. Sam gives him a new cell phone with personalised ringtones and a game Sam calls ‘snake’. Bobby gives him the expensive beer and a flannel shirt, soft and dark blue. Sam and Dean muffle their laughs and Bobby calls them both idjits. Dean gives him a hug, leaning into it but backing away before Cas can take the time to bask the sensation. He also hands him a misshapen package with that too-rare gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Considering it’s your first birthday and all.” Cas unwraps a child’s mobile, colourful birds in bright colours flapping their movable wings.

-

Castiel has a birthday. They are one of the finest things humanity has ever created, surpassed only by Dean Winchester and cheeseburger donuts.


	2. Business as Usual

The first time Cas kisses Dean, they’re on a hunt. It’s a simple salt’n’burn in one of the most stereotypically creepy cemeteries Dean has seen in a long while. Brittle branches reach low over their heads, shadow-fingers trailing over their shoulder and across their cheeks. The stiff breeze chills the sweat on his skin and makes him shiver. Dirt is gritted in the creases of his elbows and behind his knees. Sam and Cas aren’t any better off.

He holds his hands out over the dancing flames as the corpse goes up, grinning unrepentant at the face Sam makes. They let the fire settle into flickers around the charred remains, then haphazardly shovel the dirt back, heaping it loosely into the grave. Another job well done.

With a lacklustre cheer, Dean socks Sam in the shoulder, and turns to Cas to do the same. Somehow, he ends up with his hand curled around Cas’s shoulder, dirt smearing into the white fabric in a mimicry of the mark Cas first gave him.

Blue eyes meet his, corners crinkling, a secret, beaming grin that Cas still hasn’t taught his mouth to mimic. Dean’s hand passes his internal clock of ‘friendly contact between friends’ and slides into ‘emotional intimacy’ and this is where he would normally let go. But Cas reaches his own arm out, fingers sliding with a quiet rasp over two days of stubble, curling around his jaw and smoothing his thumb across the skin there.

His heart is racing, probably to compensate for the stillness of his breath. Dean can do nothing more than watch as Cas sways his whole body forward, the contact jolting through him with a static discharge as he presses his mouth to Dean’s.

It feels so natural, the slide of lips and slip of tongue and the low moan Cas drags from him (fucking _finally_ ), that it is an entire minute before he fully realises what he's doing. He hunts monsters, protects Sam, loves Cas. That’s just who he is. In fact is it Sam’s uncomfortable cough and the loudly deliberate screech of shovel blade on headstone that breaks them apart. Even with only the crescent moon’s light, Dean can see the mix of proud sibling and mortified younger brother in Sam’s expression.

“Jesus, Sam, watch where you’re swinging that thing. Why don’t you start shouting for the cops while you’re at it?” Sam blinks at him, and he feels even Cas’s intent stare from beside him. But it’s like talking to anybody on a job, yeah? Yes, ma’am, FBI, if you’ll just answer a few questions, business as usual, nothing to kick up a fuss over. He and Cas are a Thing.

Sure, they’ll have to talk about it eventually (and isn’t he just champing at the bit for _that_ conversation). But for now he settles for tangling his fingers with Cas’s and studiously ignoring the constant, gleeful glances Sam throws his way, all through the walk to the car, the drive back, and while he wanders around the bunker preparing for bed. He meets Sam’s eyes, defiant and vulnerable like he rarely lets himself be, when Cas insistently pulls him by the sleeve into his room. Sam just smirks and salutes Cas with a salacious wink, and Dean knows they’ll fall into rightness, even if it takes a while.


	3. Rain

Thunder cracked in time with the slam of the motel door, and Cas literally stormed in, trailed by an entourage of sleet that clung like a lover’s kiss to his sodden clothes. While Sam headed to the reception desk to ask for another, dry, towel, Dean helped drag Cas’s trenchcoat and shirt into a more or less contained pile. Cas stood shivering and looking faintly bewildered when the rain didn’t simply disappear under his glare.

“Us humans need to dry ourselves manually. Like this.” And Cas already knew how to use a shower, yet Dean found himself slinging a fluffy towel around his shoulders and guiding him to sit on the bed.

Dean slid the towel over his hair, laughing when Cas’s bright blue eyes glared up at him from under the floppy mop. Down his arms, and maybe Dean let his fingers trail along Cas's damp skin. He pressed Cas’s slender fingers between the towel and his own, and Cas pulled free to take hold of Dean’s hands. He flipped them, peering closely at the droplets he had splashed all over during his arrival.

Cas’s eyes flicked up to meet Dean’s and he pressed his lips to the back of Dean’s hand, tongue slipping out to lick a stripe up his arm. Dean stilled, knees locking up and eyes going wide. “Cas?” His voice was low and embarrassingly rough.

“You taste like rain.” Cas explained, eyes sweeping over his shoulders and face. “That’s what I was doing outside, tasting the rain. But I got cold.”

“Oh. Was wondering where you went to.” And Cas’s proximity had never felt quite so electric before, but suddenly he was leaning forward and licking over Dean’s collarbone ,to the corner of his jaw, humming softly. Dean gasped, hands coming up to clench over Cas’s shoulder blades. Cas continued to press open-mouthed kissed along his throat and up the sides of his face, occasionally stopping to suck on his adam’s apple or the curve of neck and shoulder, eyes closed and still humming intermittently.

“Hey Cas?” Cas looked at him, pupils wide.

“Yes, Dean?” Dean yanked him forward and kissed him, tongue sweeping out to steal back the flavour of rain and salt on skin. He groaned, burying his fingers in Cas’s hair and squeezing out little rivulets that trailed down his arms, cutting cold tracks in the heat swirling through him.

Dean broke away, thought about taking off after Sammy, but Cas pulled him close again, pressing his forehead to Dean’s shoulder and laughing quietly. Dean looked at him. “What?”

Cas grinned. “The rain tastes nice.” He pressed his lips to Dean’s again, briefly, before pulling back far enough to speak. “You taste better.”


	4. Chapter 4

“No, Cas. You’re all powered down, you’re not used to not having your mojo, you’re not coming with us. I don’t want to have to worry about you.” Cas scowls at Dean, tensing his shoulders and stepping forward, jaw set. And it’s borderline invasive, even for Cas, but no way in hell is Dean backing down. “You need to work on your aim. Maybe you can come on the next hunt.”

“I am not a child, Dean.”

“Damn right you’re not a child. You’ve been human how long? You’re a toddler.” Cas’s eyes are bright and edged with furious tears, bluer than Dean has ever seen them. He makes to turn away, leave Cas to cool down while he packs, but a hand shoots out and fists in his shirt, yanks him back around and off balance. He has to reach for Cas’s shoulders to stop himself collapsing bodily on top of the enraged ex-angel. Dean can feel his breath, short and sharp and hot against his face.

“I was ancient before my Father even conceived the idea of humanity. I watched your slithering, sea-dwelling ancestors heave themselves from the oceans. You think a nest of vampires could outmanoeuvre me? I will come with you.” He lets go and abruptly steps back, and Dean hastens to regain his balance. Sam, waiting by the door, smirks at him.

-

And so, of course, the first one the vampires go for is Cas. And of course he gets thrown into a wall before Sam can swing the machete around in a bloody arc and behead the vamp. And of course Cas slides to the ground, breathless and white-faced as he clutches at his side. And of course he ends up with two fractured ribs.

-

“You idiot. You stupid idiot, I told you so.” Despite the harsh words, Dean’s hands are gentle as he presses an ice pack to the spreading bruise. The two of them had driven back to the motel with Sam’s assurances that he would take care of cleanup.

"Vampires are much stronger than humans.” Is all Cas says. Dean wondered if if it’s possible to strain your eyes from rolling them too hard. He represses the urge to repeat himself.

“Yeah, Cas. And now you’ll be laid up healing for a month. At least.” Cas glowers at the pills in his hand. Making a face, he tips them back with a glass of water and grimaces as he swallows. He cocks his head, shifts on the bed. Goes slightly paler.

"Dean. These painkillers are not very effective.” His voice is rougher than usual, tight in the back of his throat.

“Give ‘em at least a few minutes, Cas.” He sighs and closes his eyes as Dean manoeuvres him into a less painful position. “Stay there. I’m going to change out the ice.”

Cas settles into the softness of the mattress, a small corner of his mind noting that it was Dean’s bed. That was nice of him. He feels a lethargy creep through him, dulling the ache in his side and muzzing his thoughts.

The springs complaining as Dean sits back down. Cas squints at him, watching him lean forwards to press a fresh ice pack to his side. He hisses at the sudden cold and Dean mutters an apology. Cas peers up at him and wraps his hand around Dean’s wrist to reposition the ice. When he looks back up, Dean meets his eyes and Cas tries to count the flecks of gold scattered in with the green. He’s never quite been given enough time to count them, not with his human eyes. Dean’s too far away though, so he reaches up and curves his hand around Dean’s neck. Pulls him down, and Dean’s hand shoots out to catch himself.

“What’s up, Cas?” His eyes flick down for a second, but Cas is too busy staring at his eyes. The light is inadequate and Dean’s pupils are wide wide wide, so Cas turns to the freckles dotting the bridge of his nose and smattering across his cheeks. “Uh, Cas? Getting a little uncomfortable here.”

“You have many freckles.” Dean swallows and licks his lips. Cas notes the fullness of them, the freckles dotted right down to the edge. He presses his own lips to Dean’s, cataloging the sharp breath Dean draws through his nose, the flutter of his lashes as his eyes slide closed.

When Deal pulls away, slowly, cheeks flushed, Cas draws him back, parting his lips and deepening the kiss, pulling Dean down and wrapping his arms around him, careful of his ribs. They only break apart when, half an hour later, Sam opens the door and squawks at the sight of his half-naked friend and significantly more naked brother.


End file.
